


Roommates

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Argument averted through — shock of all shocks! — healthy communication, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Everyone had warned Enjolras and Grantaire that they shouldn’t live together during their senior year of college. “Why ruin a good thing with cohabitation?” Combeferre had asked, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.Only Bossuet had been supportive. “I think it’s a great idea,” he’d told Grantaire loyally when he floated the idea by him. “After all, what could go wrong?”Frankly, that should’ve been the only sign they needed.





	Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from over a year ago, because the idea struck me.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Everyone had warned Enjolras and Grantaire that they shouldn’t live together during their senior year of college. “Why ruin a good thing with cohabitation?” Combeferre had asked, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.

“Isn’t the sex better when you have to sneak into each other’s dorm room?” Courfeyrac had said, his tone wheedling.

“You haven’t had a fight in months,” Feuilly had pleaded. ”Don’t you remember what it was like before you two got together?”

Only Bossuet had been supportive. “I think it’s a great idea,” he’d told Grantaire loyally when he floated the idea by him. “After all, what could go wrong?”

Frankly, that should’ve been the only sign they needed.

But with the same reckless determination that Enjolras possessed when facing any obstacle, and with the lackadaisical apathy Grantaire had perfected over the years, they had signed the lease on a tiny one-bedroom just off campus, finally ready to bring their relationship to the next level.

A month and a half into the school year, and Enjolras— well, it wasn’t that he was  _ regretting _ living with Grantaire. Enjolras had always pledged never to live his life with regret, after all, and besides which, he was a stubborn asshole who never had learned when to admit he’d made a mistake.

But he was willing to admit that he and Grantaire had perhaps not thought this through.

Or maybe Grantaire had. He didn’t seem to be having any difficulty with the situation, after all. His blood pressure didn’t skyrocket at various points during any given day because every little thing his boyfriend/roommate did drove him up the fucking wall.

“I told you so,” Combeferre said absently as he flipped a page in his organic chemistry textbook.

Enjolras shot him a withering look. “Are you going to offer any actual advice?” he grumbled. “Or just continue rubbing it in?”

Combeferre considered it for a moment. “The latter,” he said.

“C’mon,” Enjolras whined, burying his head in his arms. “Take pity on me.”

“Try talking to him,” Combeferre offered.

Enjolras sighed heavily. “I was afraid that’s what you’d say.”

After every single other member of Les Amis — as well as three different professors, the dour head of campus security and even Cosette’s father — all told Enjolras the same thing, he figured he may as well bite the bullet. So he went home and found Grantaire exactly where he had left him that morning, lying on the couch in an old hoodie, laptop balanced on his stomach, watching old episodes of ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives’.

Enjolras’s teeth were instantly set on edge.

“Hey,” Grantaire said vacantly, tilting his head up automatically for the kiss that Enjolras dropped onto his lips. “How was class?”

“I didn’t go,” Enjolras said stiffly as he settled into the chair across from Grantaire.

Grantaire’s brow furrowed, and he paused the show on his computer and struggled to sit up. “You blew off class?” he asked. “Was there some protest I didn’t know about?”

“No,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire’s frown deepened.

“Did someone die?” he asked, clearly aiming for a joke, but when Enjolras didn’t smile, he sighed. “Come on, Enj, throw me a bone here. You know I’m a shitty mind reader, and you also know that for all your ‘fuck the man’ talk, you haven’t unnecessarily missed a day of class in three years—”

“Unlike you.”

Enjolras hadn’t meant to lead into the conversation this way, but he just couldn’t stop himself, and as it turned out, once he started, he just couldn’t stop. “I mean, Christ, Grantaire, I realize that you think everything is a joke and nothing is worthwhile, but the fact that you honest to God spend most of your days on this fucking couch when you could actually show up to your classes once in awhile—”

Hurt flashed across Grantaire’s face, replaced quickly by a small, dangerous smirk, the kind that aimed to deflect Enjolras’s anger while irritating the man at the same time. “Forgive me, Apollo, I wasn’t aware you had taken over as Dean of Students. You’ll be glad that I’m passing all my classes, so heaven fucking forbid I spend a few days on the couch before being resigned to a lifetime of misery and toil, at least, if your rants about the fate the proletariat are to be believed.”

His tone was scathing and for a moment, it looked like Enjolras was going to lash out at him, just as he would have in the days before they had both pulled their heads out of their asses and admitted what anyone with eyes could see about the way they felt for each other.

But then, to perhaps both their surprises, Enjolras sighed deeply, deflating as if all the fight was leaving him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, drawing a hand across his face. “I don’t...I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it  _ does _ .”

“ _ What _ bothers you?” Grantaire asked, concern clear in his tone. 

Enjolras waved a vague hand in his direction. “Just...I know you’ve never been big on work ethic, but every day when I leave for class or for protest planning meetings or whatever, it — it  _ bothers _ me that you don’t ever seem to have to work at anything.”

“Enjolras—” Grantaire started, his voice soft, but Enjolras ignored him. 

“And I know — I’ve always known — you’re smarter than I am.” Grantaire let out an affronted noise and Enjolras glared at him. “Don’t even deny it. I’ve seen your standardized test scores. You don’t  _ have _ to study. You just show up to class and take your exams, but I can’t do that. My IQ doesn’t break the bank, and if I want to help the most people possible, I need good grades so I can get into the best law school, and—”

“Who—” Grantaire’s voice broke as he stared at Enjolras. “Who told you that you weren’t smart?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No one told me,” he started impatiently, but Grantaire cut him off.

“You are the smartest man I know.” Enjolras rolled his eyes again and Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “And before you even  _ try _ to tell me that Combeferre is smartest, or, heaven fucking forbid, repeating that bullshit you said before that I’m somehow smarter than you, I’m going to casually remind you of all the times you’ve told me that test scores aren’t an indication of intelligence, just how good someone is at taking a standardized test.”

Enjolras sighed. “In fairness, I mostly told you that because I was jealous of your test scores,” he muttered, the tips of his ears burning red. 

Grantaire cracked a grin. “I mean, no shit,” he said, just a little smugly. “But you’ve also cited a number of academic studies that all say the same thing. Besides which, if I’m smarter than you and I say you’re smarter than me, than logically speaking, you have to be smarter than me because I know more than you.”

Enjolras stared at him. “That…” He trailed off. “I literally cannot even begin to tell you all the ways that’s not even close to being correct.”

“Sure you can,” Grantaire said, his grin slowly widening. “Because you’re smarter than me.”

Enjolras blinked, then laughed, shaking his head slowly. “Fine,” he said, grudgingly. “Then maybe we’re equally smart.”

Grantaire laughed as well, and picked himself off the couch to lower himself onto Enjolras’s lap before kissing him lightly. “How egalitarian of you,” he whispered.

Enjolras rolled his eyes but nonetheless pulled Grantaire closer to kiss him again. “Smartass,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Grantaire said with a grin.

“God only knows why, but I do,” Enjolras sighed.

Grantaire’s smile softened. “And I can probably afford to go over to Joly and Bossuet’s to watch TV while you’re, you know, trying to study and shit.”

“That probably wouldn’t hurt,” Enjolras told him sincerely, before tilting his head and adding, “Or, and hear me out here, you could try actually going to class.”

“Cute,” Grantaire said, kissing Enjolras once more. “But don’t press your luck.”

“Worth a try,” Enjolras said, laughing.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said softly, resting his forehead against Enjolras’s. “You always are.”


End file.
